


Rooted

by jacqstoned



Series: Zutara Week 2019 [5]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Break Up, Pre-Relationship, Self-Discovery, Self-Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 12:04:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20564036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacqstoned/pseuds/jacqstoned
Summary: “You have yet to see where your home truly lies. It is only then that you could bloom truly,” the old general had said, and she was now realizing that maybe she was the home she wanted to build. Companion fic to Lost. Written for Zutara Week 2019, Day 6: Found.





	Rooted

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know, this is super, super, super late, but shit happened in real life that slammed my mental health against the wall and the universe just danced gleefully over the shattered pieces. Long story short I’m taking time off work but I’m still not totally well enough to be pumping out fics left and right, but I really wanted to finish this even if it’s too late and it’s cheesier than I originally planned. Still Katara-centric (as was Lost) but things are… shall we say… taking root. Lol anyway, sorry to keep y’all waiting, and let’s get on with the story!

There is a fine line between freedom and drifting.

She wasn't happy; not yet, but soon enough, she could be.

"I tried so hard to break it to him gently," she murmured against the biting arctic air of her home, her words conjuring puffs of steam that vanished as soon as she uttered her next words. "I tried, but I'm not sure it ended well."

"Aang's a big boy, Katara," said her brother, wrapping his arms around her hunched shoulders, just as he did when they were children and they would wake up from nightmares that seemed all too real. "He'll get over it. He has to."

"I know," she replied, because she _ did; _she knew what she had asked of him when she tore his dreams apart, but empty gray eyes still haunted her in her sleep. "He has to learn that I can't always be there to heal him whenever he gets hurt."

"Glad to know you finally caught up," her brother said, all snark and humor and everything she forgot when she was shackled as a shadow. She laughed half-heartedly and leaned against him, her anchor, her north star, the one constant she had in the world before her life changed, the thorn in her side that she didn't realize she'd miss.

"Well, the world's your oyster now, sis," he continued, shaking her as though he could transfer his enthusiasm for life into her world-weary bones. "You're free to do whatever you want!"

"Yeah, I guess I am," she said, wiping a tear away from her eyes, her smile as tentative as a baby's first steps. "And right now, I just want to stay here."

No matter how much she wanted to stay, however, the world still called out to her. 

"Such is the price of freedom, my dear," said the retired general as they sipped tea as warm as his eyes. "An old oak can only reach for the heavens once it is rooted deeply."

"I'm afraid I don't understand, Iroh," she said, even though she had an inkling of what he meant. She had tried to reach for the stars that lit her childhood home, but transience was something permanent in the nature of her people; they moved with the glaciers and the tides, with the herds of tiger seals and the flocks of otter penguins. There was nowhere to be rooted in the snow.

"You are young. You have yet to see where your home truly lies. It is only then that you could bloom truly," the old man replied, his warm hand engulfing hers, and her mind conjures another memory, one of warm breath against her thumb; she was so used to comforting others that she extended an olive branch to her erstwhile enemy, and she wondered if this was what _ he _felt back then— alone and lost and unbalanced. She wondered if his uncle was his north star, and in her mind she thanked the retired general for guiding him to where he belonged.

"I thought my home was in the Southern Water Tribe," she mused out loud, making snowflakes out of steam, speaking more to her younger self than to her host. "I always thought that when the war ended, I'd immediately go back there. But I did, and it wasn't the same. I missed the food in the Earth Kingdom; I missed the heat in the Fire Nation. Now that I've been where I've been, I can't decide where I belong."

"Ah, but who does the ocean belong to, Master Katara?" the general said, a knowing smile on his face. "Isn't it such a wonderful thing, to belong to yourself, wherever you might go?"

"I belong to myself," she found herself repeating, as she journeyed across kingdoms, through mountains and valleys and canyons. But what the wise old man forgot to tell her was that loneliness still came, like a thief in the night, so sudden and unexpected, only to leave her hollow like the bones of a bird. She can fly anywhere now, but she still flew alone.

"I don't know how you handle it, Toph," she told her friend, the expert on carrying her own weight, the only one she knew who made her own path wherever she went. The blind girl just laughed and languidly sat back on her stone chair.

"What's to handle, Sugar Queen?" she replied, hands tucked behind her head, not a care in the world. "When you've been trapped as many times as I have, you always find a way out."

"I did find my way out," she told her, almost petulantly, nursing the strong drink that she was surprised to find in her younger friend's home. "You haven't congratulated me on that yet, you know."

"Oh please, I knew you'd get out of that mess eventually," her friend dismissed casually. "That's why you shouldn't worry, y'know. I'll bury you alive if you tell anyone this, but you're tough as nails, Katara. You can survive one lousy breakup."

"It's not the breakup I'm sad about," she admitted. "It's just— I feel like I've lost my purpose, you know? Everyone is doing something with their lives, and here I am, just wandering around."

"Why do you even _ have _to have a purpose, Sugar Queen?" Her companion yawned hugely, as though the idea of wandering aimlessly wasn't as big of a deal as she made it out to be. Maybe for someone who saw the world the way she did, aimlessness wasn't really an option. "I get that you have to get your bindings in a twist all the time, but c'mon. You did so much for everyone back during the war. You could stand to loosen up a bit and wander."

"You really think that?" she asked in surprise, because for all that she'd done in the past, she had learned to expect little to no thanks. Her friend leaned over and grabbed the bottle from her hands, punching her arm along the way, and she began to think that maybe she just didn't read their appreciation well enough.

"And hey, for what it's worth," the blind girl said after drinking half the liquor and belching heartily, "Whatever you end up doing, make sure to do it on your own terms. That's how you handle it, Katara. Everything you do— do it on your own terms."

And so she did. She went from village to village, sometimes just relishing the fact that there was nothing she had to do besides enjoy the hard-earned peace they're still acclimating to; sometimes going to the places she had visited in the past and helping them erase the marks of war; sometimes, in the most sobering moments, she simply observed the way life ran its course, the way families still grieved for their loved ones who couldn't be saved, the way hunger still hovered on the horizon like an impending storm, the way hearts still broke even in the absence of war.

The last one shouldn't surprise her; after all, hadn't she been through the same experience, just months ago? Hadn't she healed enough hearts to know how fragile they were?

It still surprised her, though, that this time she was healing the same broken heart again, only this time, it wasn't in the physical sense.

"I thought I was finally happy," he muttered, tongue coated in firewhiskey and bitter regret, his crown in her hands.

"But you're never happy," she tried to quip, but there was a kernel of truth in there, a tragic rawness, because she knew that the price of peace was his youth— and he had grown up before any of them did, already half a man before he met any of them, armored to the teeth with anger and steel. 

A rueful smile appeared on his features like candle light flickering in windy darkness before snuffing out entirely. 

"I couldn't change for her," he said, more to his memories than anything else. "I didn't even realize how much we'd grown apart until she left."

"But that's the problem with growing up," she said, her words a collection of everything she's seen and heard and touched, "You never realize you're doing it until suddenly, everything's different."

"Yeah, everything's different," he mused, the ragged lines on his face seemingly more pronounced, the curve of his back too hunched for someone his age. He traced the furrow in his brow with a single finger, eyes closed as though to give himself reprieve from reality. "Do you ever regret it? Leaving Aang?"

"Sometimes I do," she admitted, because she knew him well enough to know that he already knew the answer to his own question. "But, most of the time…"

He nodded, eyes opening in acknowledgement of her underlying meaning.

"So I guess that's how Mai must feel," he concluded, fists tightening, and letting go. He sighed, deep and sorrowful, and for a split-second she saw herself in him, saw the struggle of accepting reality and rejecting it at the same time. "I hope she's as happy as you are with her decision."

"I'm not happy," she said, letting go of the crown in her hands, knowing full well how heavy the burden of healing was, because she had given up more than she imagined in order to rebuild herself. "Maybe someday, I will be. I just haven't figured out that part yet."

"You and me both," he told her, raising his glass in a mocking toast, a sardonic smile on his lips. "When you do, send me a hawk."

"What if you figure it out before I do?" she asked, wondering if he still believed in happiness at all, if he still saw the world in full color, if he still knew the sound of laughter, full-blown and carefree, because spirits know it had been a while since she'd heard his laugh, already rusty from disuse even back when they were children playing as heroes.

"I highly doubt that," he said, and a part of her heart broke in her chest— but he would never want her heart to break for him, would he? He shrugged, the action a little too casual to be sincere. "There's only so much I can learn, cooped up here in the palace, reading paperwork and attending meetings all day. You have more of a chance."

"Gran-Gran used to say that happiness is a choice, and that sometimes, you're the only one standing in the way of your own happiness," she pressed, unable to look into the dead embers of his eyes without trying to goad them back into the lively flames she was used to. "Maybe if you really wanted to, you'd find it. You have the best experience out of all of us in finding what you want, Mr. I Found The Avatar and Restored My Honor."

"I never give up without a fight," he seemed to quote, much in the way his uncle does, as though these words of wisdom simply thrummed steadily underneath their battle-hardened skin.

His throat bobbed and she could see the way he pressed his lips to a thin line, trying to fight off a smirk, and for a moment she felt the way she did when she brought him back from the brink, forcing his heart to restart, and she realized, this was a different kind of resuscitation, a different way of mending wounds.

Maybe this was her purpose, after all— maybe she could be the north star to the people she met; maybe she could only help others once she's secure in being who she wanted to be. Maybe this was what his uncle meant; maybe she was the home she wanted to build.

"And, hey, if you ever need help, I'm right here, okay?" she said earnestly, because she finally felt more grounded than she did the last few months, because she knew now why she had to wander— it brought her here, to this moment. 

Because finally, _ finally, _there was a genuine smile on his face, albeit small and crooked, but she drank it in like a sunbeam parting storm-gray clouds. 

"Thank you, Katara," he rasped, and suddenly he was her lightning-struck boy again, standing up despite his wounds, fighting against all odds. "I'd return the favor, but all I have is what Uncle Iroh told me once before."

"Which is?"

"Look into your heart and see what it is you truly want." He took his crown from where it lay between them, thumbing the edges as he did with his blades, testing its ability to withstand pressure and damage. "It took me a long time to find myself and what I truly wanted, but you're a much better person than I could ever be, Katara. You'll figure it out sooner than you'd expect."

It was her turn to fight off tears and a smile— when did showing emotions become a battlefield for her? She can't remember the last time she'd grinned until her cheeks would hurt— but she shrugged it off, mirroring his earlier actions.

"Thank you, Zuko," she said, with an odd feeling of being weightless and anchored at the same time— _ this is what waves must feel like; coming and going yet still the same wherever they go. _ "I think I'm figuring it out now."

"That was fast," he commented dryly, and this time she did laugh, and he laughed along with her, a quiet kind of symphony that she knew she wouldn't tire of hearing. 

"Trust me, it wasn't," she said, an echo of laughter in her voice, her melancholia now replaced by mere nostalgia. "I didn't know what I was supposed to be doing after I broke up with Aang. I still don't, not really, but I'm starting to feel like my old self— no, it's more like... I'm starting to see who I could be, now that I'm not tied to Aang's destiny."

"And who could you be?"

"Anyone I want to be," she answered simply. He raised his one good eyebrow at her. 

"That's your big revelation? That you could become anyone you want?" His almost-laugh turned into an almost-cough in his disbelief. "Katara, you've always been free to make your own future. You know that, right?"

"Not for the past years, I didn't." She shrugged with a smile. "Being myself was the one big thing I wanted to figure out when I broke up with Aang. I was so terrified of being reduced to one identifier— the Avatar's waterbender, the Avatar's girlfriend, the Avatar's wife. Now I can be whoever I want to be— waterbender, warrior, healer, sister, friend— because I'm no longer tied to Aang's destiny."

"Destiny is a funny thing," he mused, tracing patterns onto his crown, drawing a maze out of fingerprints that disappeared like ghosts on the smooth surface. "Uncle used to tell me that all the time."

"Your uncle had some proverbs for me, too, you know, when I visited him in Ba Sing Se," she remembered. "Something about the ocean belonging to itself and finding where my home really was and only blooming once I'm deeply rooted."

"Yeah, that sounds like Uncle," he replied, feigning annoyance with a roll of his eyes. He studied her closely, steadily. "Does that mean you're rooted now?"

"I'm starting to be," she replied. 

"What changed?" he asked.

_ I did, _she wanted to say, but it wasn't the truth; she was now only realizing that, like water, like the moon, she could go through phases and still be wholly herself, whatever she did, wherever she went; she was who she was at her very core, no matter how turbulent the times, no matter how lost and adrift she had felt.

_ I found balance, _she wanted to say, but she knew in her heart that she hadn't, not yet, but she was getting there; the seed was taking root in her soul, still too fragile to stand alone, still in need of constant guidance, but slowly crawling its way out into the world.

_ I've grown up, _she wanted to say, but so had all of them, and he was a testament to that; he wasn't the boy she tried to heal in the catacombs now; he also wasn't the boy who dove in front of lightning for her, too. They were all growing up, and still growing, and she knew firsthand that growth didn’t equate to the steadiness of being rooted. 

"I don't really know," she said instead, because it might be every answer she had thought of, or it could be none of it at all. "I guess I'll only know once I truly bloom."

"I'd love to see you truly bloom," he murmured, before his eyes widened and his cheeks reddened. "I— I mean, you're already amazing at whatever you do, Katara, so— what I meant was— seeing you bloom would be—"

She laughed in surprise at his stammering; for all the growing up they've done, for all the regality and composure that the world saw in him, for all the sacrifices he had made and all the things he had lost, she was glad to see that there was still a trace of someone awkward and unfinished and rough-hewn in him, someone as young and unsure as her, yet as willing to see and build their future in their own terms.

"I understand, Zuko," she said, because she really did, and the understanding felt more like coming home than anything she had ever done. "I'd love to see you truly bloom, too."

**Author's Note:**

> This wasn’t supposed to end like this, but I wrote, like, three different versions and this was the one that made me least likely to vomit from cheesiness so here we are. Tell me what you guys think of this!


End file.
